Kiss My Tears Away
by thetr1ckster
Summary: You are about to kill yourself when Trevor Philips saves your life. TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide, guns, language, crime. Trevor/Reader : Fem!Reader : Post-GTA V : [y/n] your name : I do not own GTA V.
1. Chapter 1

Your heart thudded a mile a minute as you heard the blow of the train's whistle come closer and closer. Your legs shook. The hot tears that welled up in your eyes burned but you ignored them, holding them back in case any onlookers at the station saw. You debated waiting until there were not a lot people were around but you decided against it.

It was now or never. No more pussying out. You were killing yourself.

The station floor rattled as the train approached. You neared the edge, preparing to jump in front of the oncoming locomotive. Your toes passed the yellow safety line. You took a deep breath.

"Goodbye," you breathed, almost silent.

You closed your eyes and took a step forward.

* * *

A heavy weight collided with your side. You felt every part of your body ache as you hit something hard. You felt the familiar feeling of your arm breaking that you've felt only once before as a teenager. There was pain, and a lot of it.

Is this what death was like?

"Not today!" You heard an unfamiliar gruff voice say above you.

Your eyes snapped open immediately.

You were pinned to the ground of the station, as the train rolled passed you. Bystanders stared in awe and shock, stunned silent by what they had just seen. A stranger held you down to the ground.

Most importantly, you were alive.

You looked at the bastard that ruined your plan. He was an older, rugged-looking man with dark brown receding hair, faded scars in various parts of his face, and a dotted line tattoo with the words "CUT HERE" forever written across his neck.

His brown eyes met yours.

"Listen, sweetheart. I've watched a lot of people die today and I'm not about to let you be one of them."

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out but a mere whimper. The tears you were forcing back before began streaming out but this time they weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of anger.

He helped you up to your feet.

"You're welcome, by the way."

You raised your arm with the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face but you groaned in pain at your arm that was definitely broken. He wrapped his arm around you to steady you.

"Easy there, kid. There's no need to make any more stupid decisions today, don't cha think?"

You were pissed, there was no doubt about it but you gave in to the warmth and strength of his body. You felt weak and exhausted and were in no position to fight back against this man who was clearly stronger than you.

"Come on. Come with me. Let me take care of your arm," he said to you, leading you to the exit of the train station. Bystanders watched the both of you. The man who _saved_ you turned to them, "What the fuck are you all looking at? She'll be fine, mind your own damn business."

He led you toward a red truck that you presumed was his. You gulped hard and cleared your throat to speak, "Don't take me to a hospital. They'll lock me up in a mental facility."

He lifted you into the passenger seat and buckled you in before moving to his side and getting in. The truck sputtered before igniting. The man began driving.

"I won't. I know more than the next crazy motherfucker that psych wards fuck you up more than actually benefit you. But you do have to get that arm patched up though," He gestured to your bruised, swelling right arm. You touched it with your hand lightly and grimaced.

"Where are we going?" you asked quietly.

"Sandy Shores. Back to my place. My buddy Ron can fix you up."

You nodded, in a daze. You didn't care that you were driving in a dirty old truck with a complete stranger or that your arm was broken and pulsating with pain. You were alive. You were still trapped in this shitty prison called life. Silent tears began to run down your cheeks as you gazed out the window.

The man grabbed your thigh with a strong hand and shook it a little bit.

"Don't worry. You'll thank me later."


	2. Chapter 2

You spent most of the ride gazing out of the window of the truck as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You just wanted to die. Why did the world want you to suffer? You were so exhausted and consumed with your thoughts that you barely noticed when you arrived at a beat-up looking trailer park.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of it, and wiped your eyes with your hand as the man opened the door for you. Gripping your broken arm, you slowly stepped out of the vehicle. You were at a small trailer. The dusty yard area was littered with garbage, tattered furniture, and… bullet casings? What the hell?

"RON!" the man barked loudly to the trailer next door as he walked up the porch steps, "Get over here and bring the first aid kit!"

You were already inside the trailer as you heard a very faint, "Be right there!"

The trailer was horrifying. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. The floors were sticky and the furniture was pretty much destroyed. It reeked of bear and something else you just couldn't put your finger on. You wondered how anyone could live comfortably in these conditions.

"Make yourself at home… uh, what did you say your name was again?" the man said to you, gesturing to the gross, lumpy couch.

"It's [y/n]," you responded meekly, as you obliged and took a seat.

"Name's Trevor. Trevor as in Trevor Philips Industries. You've probably heard of me," he declared in a prideful voice and a wicked smile.

You pursed your lips and shook your head, "Sorry. Never heard of it."

His smile faltered, "Oh…" Before he could continue, a nervous looking man wearing a boat hat and glasses barged in carrying a bulky first aid kit.

"Trevor! I came as fast as I could! Are you hurt?" He asked frantically, observing Trevor up and down for potential wounds or injuries.

"I'm fine. But our guest here has a broken arm and needs some TLC," he pointed to me as I rolled my eyes. I waved my good hand at Ron weakly.

Ron turned to me, "Nice to meet you," you mustered a very small smile, "Here, let me get a good look at you."

You zoned out for the most part as Ron assembled a cast on your wounded arm. The two men discussed something you assumed was work-related as Trevor smashed down a few beers, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts to care. About an hour passed before Ron rose to his feet and rubbed his hands together.

"Welp, you're all set, miss."

You cleared your throat, "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. I'm here to help," he grabbed his first aid kit and headed for the door. He turned to Trevor, "Okay, T, I'll talk to Chef about the next batch tomorrow." Trevor saluted his friend out with a beer in his hand. Then, it was just the two of you.

You inspected your cast as Trevor took another swig of his drink. You were impressed. It almost looked like an actual doctor in a hospital did it. Your attention was diverted when Trevor took a seat on the couch next to you, a bit too close for comfort. You moved away slightly.

"So," you started, "It's getting pretty late. I should probably head home…" You attempted to stand but Trevor landed a strong hand on the shoulder of your good arm to keep you seated.

"Why? So you can find some pills in your medicine cabinet to kill yourself with while you still feel like you have enough balls to do it? Nuh uh, no way. You're staying here."

You gaped at him as he drank again, "Excuse me? You can't keep me here. I'm an adult. I should be able to go home if I want to."

"Listen, sweetheart—"

"It's [y/n]!" you corrected.

"Whatever. If you pulled that stunt today and someone other than me happened to save you, you'd be locked up in a psych ward and _still_ not be allowed to go home. At least I'm not going to treat you like some fucking freak. You're lucky I saved you."

Your blood boiled and tears burned in your eyes, "Oh, I'm so fucking lucky!" you shouted sarcastically, "Fuck you! I'm not lucky at all! I should be fucking dead! It's all I fucking wanted! Now I'm stuck in this miserable life where no one gives a fuck about me, I have no fucking job, and I'm stuck here in this fucking garbage can with some dick who is telling me I can't fucking leave! Does that sound fucking lucky to you?"

He got up abruptly and entered the next room that you assumed was the bedroom. You heard him rummaging through some drawers before he came back out to where you were. He stormed toward you and grabbed your good hand, placing a pistol in it.

"There. Fully loaded and ready to go. You want to kill yourself so bad? Do it! Take the fucking gun to your head and blow your fucking brains out all over the walls. Be my fucking guest!"

He stared at you, seething, as your eyes flickered between the gun and him.

"I-I-I can't do it here…" you stammered, "This is your home…"

"I don't give a fuck!" he said with an insane smile and a maniacal laugh, "It wouldn't be the first time this trailer has seen death. I'll clean up the mess! You have my blessing to end your fucking life."

"But- But- But-"

"But what? Here, let me help you," He grabbed your hand that was holding the gun and brought it up to your head, "Now, squeeze the trigger."

You began to shake, "…Why are you doing this?"

"I want to help you get what you want. You want to die so bad. I'm giving you your way out."

A few moments passed before you broke into sobs. You put the gun down on the couch. Trevor nodded.

"That's what I fucking thought," he grumbled, "If you were really hopeless, you'd be long gone by now."

"I'm so sorry!" you wailed, "I'm so so sorry!"

You closed your eyes and let the tears fall. You felt a pair of strong arms envelop you in a comforting embrace. You fell into the warmth and continued to cry. The next thing you heard was Trevor's voice in a soft tone as he rubbed circles on your back.

"You're not hopeless."


	3. Chapter 3

You ended up spending the night. You were too tired to fight anymore. All you needed was rest. Trevor lent you an oversized ratty-looking _Love Fist_ band tee and cleared off his bed for you to sleep in. He spent the night on the couch. You slept so soundly that it was almost as if you _were_ actually dead.

It was noon when a voice you had never heard before woke you up.

"Excuse me, nice lady," a man's voice with a very distinct lisp whispered politely. You opened your eyes to see a man wearing baggy clothes, facial piercings, dreadlocks, and his face painted like a clown. You instinctively pulled the blanket up to your chin.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Trevor's. My name is Wade. I'm sorry if I frightened you," his voice was soft and almost child-like.

"Alright… I'm [y/n]."

"Trevor is out doing some business stuff or whatever but he told me to tell you that he'll be back within the hour. He, uh… also told me to get you this."

You almost didn't notice the cup of coffee and pack of a dozen donuts in his hand. He put the donuts on the bed and handed the coffee to you. You took a whiff of the strong coffee and the scent alone woke up your senses a bit.

"Oh, um… Thank you," He offered you a warm grin. You peered behind him from where he was standing at the door of the bedroom, "How did you get in here anyways?"

"Trevor usually leaves the door unlocked."

Your eyes widened in shock, "Wait, but what if someone breaks in?"

"They won't. No one really wants to mess with Trevor or get on his bad side."

You nodded in response. You wondered what he meant by that. Were people afraid of Trevor? Should you be afraid?

"So, yeah, Trevor will be back soon. I'll see ya, miss."

"Thank you," you said as he left out the door. And just like that you were alone again in this place you've never been before. You just sat and enjoyed your breakfast.

* * *

It was an hour and a half before Trevor came barging through the door. He turned to the bedroom and looked at you, still clad in his shirt and reading some magazine you found on the floor.

"You're still here," he said. His tone sounded surprised.

"Yup, I'm still here. Thanks for the breakfast, by the way."

He ran his fingers through his hair, "It was no problem. It's the least I could do after that shit show last night."

You nodded and pursed your lips, "Yeah…" You flipped open the top of the box of donuts, "You want some donuts? I only had two."

He nodded and sat down at the foot of the bed, grabbing a donut and practically inhaling it. You flipped a couple more pages of the magazine in your lap before closing it and setting it down beside you.

"Why did you stop me yesterday?"

He licked the powder from the donut off of his lips before speaking, "Because I get you. You don't need to die. Not yet anyways."

"What do you mean you _get me_?"

"Because I've been there," you stared at him, waiting for more of an explanation, "Nearly ten years ago, my life hit an all-time low. I lost two of my closest friends, on top of that, my dreams of being in the air force were shot because I was apparently too much of a loose cannon, and my family is either AWOL or dead. I was like, fuck, what's the fucking point of being alive anymore?"

You nodded slowly, "Wow… So, what happened?"

"Not important. I'm still here. I'm the founder of my own company, I own my own airfield, I made new friends, and I fulfilled somethings that I thought I'd never do. And you know what? All that shit wouldn't have happened if I pussied out all those years ago and took my own life."

"Well…" you looked for the right words to say, "I'm glad it all worked out for you."

He turned to look at you and grabbed your hand, "Look, [y/n], you're young. Seeing you yesterday was like looking at a mirror and seeing myself from ten years ago. I couldn't let you get fucked up by a train. I see a lot of people die and I wasn't about to let you be one of them. You don't deserve it."

You didn't know what else to say. You pursed your lips and looked down at your lap.

"You can say thanks, you know?"

You gulped and very quietly whispered the words, "Thank you."

"It's a start. You'll mean it someday," he patted a hand on your thigh, "Come on, get up and get ready."

You pushed the blanket off of you, "Why? What's going on?"

He stood up and headed toward the door of the trailer.

"You and I are going to go out. I'm going to make you want to keep going."

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Trevor turned down the radio to reply, "Have you ever flown before?"

You thought to yourself, "Once, when I went to Florida with my family when I was nine."

"Well, today is going to make it twice."

You raised your eyebrows, "You're taking me flying?"

"Yup."

You nodded and exhaled to relax. You tried not to make it very obvious that you were nervous. When you both arrived at the airfield, you exited the truck and he led you toward a black helicopter. As you entered the passenger side, he carefully and securely strapped you in. You looked at him as he tugged on the straps, making sure they were tight enough.

"Trevor, I don't know about this. I mean, what about my arm? I really don't think—"

He let out a little laugh, cutting you off mid-sentence, "Come on and live a little. You have to do something to get your heart racing sometimes. Your arm will be fine. Not to mention, I'm really good at flying," he must have suspected you were still hesitant by the look in your eyes, "Do you trust me?" You both locked eyes for a moment before you replied with a nod, "I won't let you die."

He slammed the door of the helicopter and entered on his side. He strapped himself in and turned on the chopper. The propellers above began whirring. You took a deep breath and held it as Trevor ascended the both of you.

Trevor glanced at you, "Breathe, [y/n]. You'll be alright."

You started breathing very slowly. You hesitantly looked out the window. The world seemed… _limitless_. Trevor's voice shook you out of your trance.

"Where to, sweetheart?"

You turned to him, "I, uh… um…" you thought for a moment, "How about the Vinewood sign?"

He scoffed, "That's it?"

You frowned, "What? You asked me a question and I answered it."

"You don't have any better ideas?"

"Fine, you pick a place then."

"Gladly."

Then, you were off. He flew toward the city as you gazed out the window in awe. Everything looked so small… the buildings, the people, the cars. You wish you could just stay in the air forever and leave your problems on the ground.

"You have a beautiful smile," he said, "It's a damn shame you aren't happy all the time."

You thought about rejecting the compliment but decided against it and offered him another thankful smile.

Minutes passed by until he landed on the roof of the Maze Bank and got out of the helicopter. He went to unbuckle you from all the different harnesses of the seat and helped you out of the chopper.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" you asked.

"Probably not, but don't worry about that right now, just take it all in," he responded and gestured grandly at the view.

There you stood on the highest building in Los Santos. The view took your breath away. You saw everything from airplanes taking off from LSIA, to the Vinewood Sign. You forgot how beautiful the city was.

"Wow…"

"Are you glad you came?" Trevor asked, examining your expression.

"It makes my problems seem so… small."

He nodded, "That was the idea, yes. But isn't it also nice that since you did off yourself, you now have a new experience under your belt?"

He was right. You just needed to view life from a new perspective. Not a perspective of hopelessness but one of boundless possibilities. You didn't reply. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

You continued to enjoy the view. Minutes passed by when you finally spoke to him.

"We should probably head out. I don't want to get into any trouble by being here."

"Okay, Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes. Here, get in. Let me strap you in."

You took one last look at the cityscape before heading toward the helicopter.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time you both arrived back at the airfield, you were starving.

"I'm kind of hungry," you announced as you both walked back to the red truck.

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

"I don't have any money…" you admitted shamefully. Ever since you lost your job, you've been used to skipping meals because you couldn't afford them.

Trevor held up his hand, dismissing your excuse, "Don't even worry about it. It's on me."

"You sure you don't mind?" you asked.

"Sweetheart, believe me, money is definitely not an issue for me," he assured you as he began driving.

You glanced at him, confused. If money wasn't an issue for him, why did he live in such a pig sty? Why did he dress in ratty clothing that obviously wasn't his size? Why did he drive an old truck that sputtered a cry of despair every time he started it? What the hell did he do for a living?

You arrived at a family diner in Sandy Shores. You both took your seats. The aroma of the food in the air made your stomach ache because of how hungry you were. A kind middle aged woman approached your table and handed you a menu. She didn't give one to Trevor.

"Trevor, we told you last month that you are not welcome here," the waitress said, hands on her hips.

Trevor ran a hand down his face, "Uh, shit. Listen, you have no proof that it was me."

"We don't need proof with your reputation, now go," she pointed toward the door.

"Beth, come on, my guest is starving," he gestured to you. Your cheeks burned.

"Well, she can stay but you have to go."

You whispered across the table to Trevor, "Um… we can go somewhere else. It's no big deal."

Trevor shushed you and turned back to the waitress, "Listen, if I pay you back and apologize, will you let us just eat here in peace?"

"Peace?!" She laughed, "Funny word coming from you!"

"Is it a deal?"

The waitress hesitated, "Only if you pay double of what you took."

Trevor gritted his teeth. You could tell he wasn't one to like losing, "Fuck! Fine," he reached into his pocket and pulled out an impressive roll of cash. He counted out $1,000 in large bills and handed it to the woman who smile smugly and stuffed the cash in her bra.

"Thank you, sugar."

"Fuck off," Trevor growled, "Now give me a damn menu."

"That's not a very nice way to talk to the person who is handling your food," the waitress said, handing Trevor a menu.

He took a deep breath before muttering a weak apology.

Then, it was just the two of you at the table. Trevor began flipping through the menu.

"Um…" you started, "What the fuck was that?"

"Don't worry about it," Trevor dismissed.

"No, what was that? Why were you banned? Why did you give her one grand?" you questioned sternly, demanding answers.

Trevor leaned toward you, "They think I robbed them at gun point."

You're eyes widened as you looked toward the waitress.

"Why did you take the blame for it? You just lost a thousand dollars for no reason!"

"Because I did."

You felt your appetite disappear.

"What?" you gaped, "What did you say?"

"I held up this place about a month ago and took around $500 from them, and they won't let it go."

You stared at him like he's stupid. "I wouldn't let it go either if you held a gun to me."

"Judging by last night, princess, you _did_ let it go," That statement alone stunned you silent, "Just shut up and decide what you want."

You stared down at the menu but read nothing. You were seated at a table with a criminal. You rode in a helicopter with someone who wasn't afraid to pull a gun out at innocent people. _You slept in his bed_. You began to feel filthy and scared but mostly sick. You closed the menu and stood up abruptly and stormed out of the restaurant. You needed some air. Trevor followed soon after.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"What did she mean she knew the robber was you just judging by your reputation?"

Trevor sighed and rolled his eyes, "Well, if you must know, I am one of the most notorious psychopathic criminals in the San Andreas area who kills without regret and runs the area's most successful meth lab."

You wished he was joking. But you knew in your gut that he wasn't.

"You're shitting me."

"No, _darling_ , I am not shitting you," the way he said the word 'darling' left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wanted now more than ever to go home.

He approached you but you backed away, "You stay away from me, you're crazy. You don't value anyone's life but your own," you approached the road, wanting to hitch a ride.

"I value yours," he responded.

You shook your head, "No. No," you repeated.

"You don't believe me? I thought you said you trusted me earlier."

"That was before I knew you were a deranged drugged-up psycho killer," you held out your thumb, continuing to try and hitch a ride but nobody stopped.

Trevor approached you angrily and grabbed both of your shoulders. You grimaced in pain when he gripped your broken arm.

"Listen to me—"

"LET GO OF ME!" tears of fear began to fall down your face.

"LISTEN!" he roared, "If I wanted to kill you, I could easily push you into this traffic right now. But I'm not going to do that. You know why?" he paused for a moment, "Because I'm not completely fucking heartless. I could have let you get crushed by that train yesterday but I didn't because I am capable of caring about people. I may be a scary, twisted, dangerous motherfucker, [y/n], but I am not cold."

You stared into his eyes as he continued to speak.

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I will never intentionally hurt you. So, please, come back inside and let's just eat. We can talk about this more later if you want."

There was a pregnant pause. You knew you were probably making a big mistake but there was something about him that you couldn't say no to, something you couldn't stay away from.

You nodded slowly as he led you back inside the restaurant.


	5. Chapter 5

You played around idly with the eggs on your plate, looking at them with absolutely no desire to eat them. You felt sick. One of the main reasons you were still alive was a psychotic criminal. You felt like shit, like this would only happen to you. Meanwhile, Trevor scoffed down his plate of blueberry pancakes as if nothing was wrong.

Once he was finished, you decided to break the silence between the both of you, "I…" You let out a sigh, "I really think I should go home."

He glanced at you for a moment before dropping his fork to his plate. He wiped his dirty mouth with his shirt, "Listen, [y/n]…"

You cut him off, "I know you think it's not a good idea for me to be all alone right now but I really think I need some time to think things through."

Trevor was staring at you, reading your expression, "You promise you're not going to kill yourself?"

You swallowed, "I promise. I just need some time to myself. I've got a lot on my mind."

He shrugged and stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out more than enough money to foot the bill. He slammed it on the table, "Alright. I guess, I trust you."

You smiled a silent thanks as you both left the restaurant.

* * *

He drove you toward your apartment near Vespucci Beach. The ride was mostly silent aside from the rock music playing from the radio. When you both arrived at your place, he walked you up to your door.

You realized your key was inside, on your bed next to your suicide note. You didn't expect to be coming home so you thought bringing anything with you was unnecessary. You reached under your doormat for the spare and continued your way into your home. Trevor followed you in casually.

"Well, this is me." You gestured to the dimly lit apartment.

"Nicer than mine," Trevor pointed out, inspecting the home.

You nodded awkwardly. He approached you so he was standing in front of you. You locked eyes for a moment before you looked away.

"Anyways, thanks for the ride—"

"Are you sure I can trust you here by yourself?" He interrupted.

You shrugged. "I guess that's up to you whether you trust me or not."

He furrowed his brows in frustration, "Don't fuck around with me, [y/n]."

"Trevor, I think it's very sweet that you 'care' about me and all," you began, using air quotes around the word _care_ , "but you don't have to treat me like a kid."

He pointed a finger at you with his mouth open, ready to say something but ended up holding himself back. He turned his back to you and began toward the exit of your apartment, "Whatever, [y/n]…" And with that, he was gone.

You were finally alone.

Before you knew it, tears began burning in your eyes, easing the lump in your throat. You fell to the floor and uncorked the emotions you had been bottling up since yesterday.

* * *

By the time you stopped crying, the sun had completely set and the only thing lighting your home was the streetlights outside. You brought yourself to your feet and wiped at the dried tear tracks on your cheeks with your hand.

You brought yourself to your bedroom and took a look around. Your eyes landed on the piece of paper on your bed. Something about it sparked a fire in the pit of your chest. You stared at it for a moment before storming toward it. You grabbed it and crumpled it up in your hands. You chucked it at the ground with all of your strength, seething as you did so.

Running your fingers through your hair, you approached your laptop and turned it on. Once it was on, you clicked on your web browser and began searching. You searched Weazel News, local newspapers, anything that could get you more information on who exactly Trevor Philips was.

You searched for stories on local robberies, drug busts, shootings, along with an assortment of other crimes. You clicked on a story about a recent robbery of the Union Depository. You scanned the page until you found witness descriptions of the suspects.

One of the suspects was described as a six foot tall man, perhaps in his 40s, with brunette hair, and a few scars on his face. The witness recounted seeing a unique tattoo across the suspect's neck but didn't get a good look at what it was. His personality is described as unhinged and psychotic.

As you read, you didn't notice your hands begin to shake.

You shook your head. "Oh, no… Oh, no, no, no, no, _no_."

It was him. It was Trevor. He robbed the Union Depository of millions. He shot down countless amounts of law enforcement officers. He did it all.

You scrolled to the bottom of the page, and read the final paragraph in the news report:

 _If you see any of the suspects described above, do not approach them. They are all heavily armed and extremely dangerous. If you know of any of the suspect's whereabouts, please contact your local police department._

Your lips parted as you eyed the landline phone on your desk. Grabbing the phone, your finger hovered over the 9 button. You only heard the faint sound of the dial tone and your shaky breathing.

You stayed like that for a minute. You knew Trevor. You knew where he lived. You knew all you needed to know. You could turn him in. You _should_ turn him in… But you just couldn't.

Setting the phone back down on the receiver, you leaned back in your chair with a big sigh. You squeezed your eyes shut and smacked your good hand roughly against your head.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" you scolded, smacking yourself with every word. Trevor was a criminal. He deserved to be punished but you couldn't bring yourself to let justice be served. Why? Because you like him? Because you had feelings for some crazed killer? You pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingertips, "Get out of my head!" you shouted. Your voice echoed through the empty apartment.

You stood up from your desk chair and laid yourself on your bed. You didn't get dressed, take off your shoes, or get underneath any of the blankets. All that mattered in that moment was shutting those thoughts out of your head. Within minutes, you were asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

It was around four in the morning when you were awoken by the sound of the door of your apartment being unlocked. You got up abruptly. Your first night back in your own home and someone was breaking in.

You reached under your bed and grabbed the wooden baseball bat you had hidden. You got off your bed slowly and quietly. You peered out of your bedroom into your living area. It was so dark that you could barely see anything. You focused your eyes in the direction of the door and heard the knob twist and turn.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the door finally opened slightly. That was when you decided to speak up.

"Don't come any further!" you warned, "I'm armed!"

But the door continued to open slowly. You watched as the silhouette of a man entered your apartment. You saw something in his hand.

"Hey, don't make me call the cops!" you shouted, still nothing. Was this guy an idiot? Did he _want_ to get caught?

You saw the figure approach the wall and fumble around for something. Suddenly, the lights of the living room came on. You shielded your eyes for a moment before finally seeing who your intruder was.

 _Oh, no._

"Hey, baby…" slurred Trevor, spreading his arms apart. He was clad only in a dirty pair of briefs and rugged combat boots. He had a half-empty bottle of whisky in his hand. He was a mess but he looked… _good_. You gaped at him.

"Trevor?"

"The one and only!" he declared proudly. You exited your bedroom as he approached you, stumbling slightly.

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

He enveloped you in a hug, causing you to drop the bat in your hand onto the floor, "What, canna guy come over and say hi sometime?"

The man reeked of alcohol and he was sticky with sweat, "It's four in the morning."

Trevor loosened his hug and look into your eyes. You could smell the strong scent of whisky on his breath, "Missed you… Missed you a whole lot," He leaned in with his wet lips puckered. _Oh, fuck…_ Your eyes widened as you turned your head so that he kissed your hair. He backed up again and frowned, "What? No sugar for Uncle T?"

"H-how did you get in here?" you stuttered nervously, ignoring his question. You slowly pushed him away.

He took another swig of whisky, "Spare key," he answered.

 _Fuck..._ You didn't know he was paying attention when you used it earlier. You approached the window of your home and glanced outside. You saw his truck parked haphazardly across the street. _He drove here from Sandy Shores that intoxicated?_

You turned back to him. He was looking at your high school diploma that was framed on your wall.

"How much have you had to drink?" you questioned.

Trevor directed his attention back to you, and held up the bottle in his hand, "Three or four…?" You groaned in frustration and walked toward him. You led him into your bedroom and sat him down on your bed. You grabbed his whisky away from him. He laid back and let out a deep laugh, "Hadda feelin' you wanted me in your bed."

You disregarded his comment, you didn't even look at him. You just made your way to your dresser and pulled out a pair of oversized pajama pants, setting his bottle of alcohol down on the top of the dresser. You turned toward him and tossed the pants in his direction. You grabbed some pajamas for yourself to wear.

"Here, you can stay here for the night until you sober up. You can sleep in my bed. I'll be on the couch." You walked past him, trying to make your way to the bathroom to get dressed. Suddenly, you felt his strong hands grab your hips and pull you on top of his half naked body. You winced at the slight pain in your broken arm.

"C'mon, baby," he whispered seductively to you, "Why don't you sleep with me t'night?"

You felt his hands slide down your back and over your ass, giving it a little squeeze. Your face burned pink as you shuddered at his touch.

"Trevor, no..."

"Christ, 'm so hard for you."

He pressed your hips against his. You felt his bulged against you. Your eyes widened before you pushed yourself off of him with all your might, "Trevor, please! You're drunk!"

Once you were firmly on your feet, you picked up the pajamas you had dropped on the floor when he grabbed you.

"As I was saying, I'll be in the living room!" you repeated sharply, as you stormed away.

"Whatever, baby," you heard him say, "I'm going to handle this bad boy right here. You're more than welcome to help me finish this anytime you want."

You tried your best not to listen to him talk about masturbating in your bed. You just wanted to get dressed and go back to bed.

* * *

You laid down on the couch and stared at the ceiling, hoping, _praying_ that you fell asleep soon. But you couldn't. You couldn't focus on sleep, not with the faint sound of fabric moving and Trevor's light moaning from the next room consuming your thoughts and keeping you up.

This couldn't be happening.

You tried pressing your fingers in your ears and closing your eyes. But even with that, all you could think about was Trevor's naked body and how it felt when you were on top of him with his hands on your ass. Mostly, you thought about how his erection felt against your hips, the most intimate parts of both of you separated by a mere few layers of fabric.

 _God, what the hell is wrong with me?_ You thought to yourself.

You couldn't sleep like this. Not with all the noise. So, you waited. You waited until the rustling sound of your bedsheets calmed down. You waited until the whimpers stopped. You waited until you heard one final groan of euphoria. And you waited until the thoughts wondering what he looked like shut the hell up.

It was then that you finally got some sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

You slept like hell. You tossed and turned all night. It turned out that sleeping was not a good enough escape from your erotic thoughts considering they followed you into your dreams. You reached down into your pajama pants and felt over your underwear. They were soaked…

"Fuck…" you muttered to yourself. You got up, the sticky dampness of your panties leaving you feeling very uncomfortable as you shifted your body. You felt gross and…unsatisfied.

Glancing at the bedroom, you wondered if Trevor was awake yet. You paused for a moment and listened intently for any sign that he was still sleeping. You heard nothing. You tip-toed to your room. All you wanted was some clean clothes and a shower.

You peaked inside the bedroom and there he was, fast asleep. He was lying face down, on his stomach. The sheets of your bed were barely covering his body. The pajama pants you lent him were left in a pile on the floor along with the dirty underwear he was wearing last night. He was completely naked in your bed. You repressed any thoughts of him being beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, you continued to tip-toe toward your dresser, looking for some clean clothes to wear. You picked out your outfit for the day and headed out of the room, toward the bathroom for your shower.

You peeled off your clothes and tossed them into the hamper. You ran the water, scalding hot, hoping it could somehow wash away how dirty you felt. You stood under the running water and tried to focus only on the task at hand, but to no avail, you could only focus on the fact that you and Trevor were both naked in the same house. You imagined him coming into the shower with you, hoisting you up and having his way with you against the wet tile.

God, what the _fuck_ was happening?

You washed your face and searched your brain for an explanation. Maybe it's because he is the first person to show that they care about you in a long time. Maybe it's because you haven't been intimate with another person in years. Maybe you're ovulating and getting horny because of that. Fuck. Who knows? People get horny sometimes, it happens.

Maybe you just needed a release.

You leaned back against the wall of the shower and let your hand linger downward. You stroked gently down the center of your entrance, biting your lip as you did so. You held back a groan. Yes, this was exactly what you needed.

Teasing slightly at your pussy, you brought your other hand up to your nipple, toying with it a little bit until you felt it harden in your fingertips.

The water from your shower made it easy for you to slowly slide your fingers inside of you. You sighed quietly, arching your back against the wall. You caressed the walls inside of you ever so gently, searching for the right spot. It didn't take long to find it.

You let your mouth hang open and your eyes flutter shut as pleasure sored through your body. It felt like warm electric waves coursing through your veins, hitting every edge of your body. Minutes passed as you continued to do this, gradually picking up the pace. Before long you felt the familiar warmth in the pit of your belly. You knew you were almost there.

Working and working yourself, you felt a smile begin to grow on your face. You bit your lip.

 _Here it comes…_

And then a knock sounded at your bathroom door, shoving you back into reality.

You ripped your fingers out of you, far too fast for comfort and stood up straight.

"Um, y-yes?" you called out nervously. You rolled your eyes in frustration.

"[y/n], I really _really_ have to use the bathroom," Trevor's gruff voice announced.

You looked down at your body. You hadn't even washed your body yet, "Uh… Can it wait?"

"I've been waiting out here for a few minutes now. So, unless you want me to piss myself on your floor, I suggest hurrying up. What in god's name is taking you so long anyways?"

"Um… Uh…" you couldn't think of any excuses, "I guess you can come in. Just, uh… don't look."

You moved quickly to wash your body as you heard the door open. You could see the silhouette of Trevor stride toward the toilet. You looked forward toward the wall of the shower and finished bathing as fast as you could as Trevor did his business and left.

Once he closed the door behind him, you turned off the water and got out. You got dressed and brushed your teeth as fast as you could and exited the bathroom. He was seated on the couch, wearing the pajama pants you lent him. He turned to you.

"Hey, uh… Can I talk to you?"

You nodded silently and moved to sit down next to him on the couch.

"Listen, [y/n]. I really appreciate you taking me in last night."

Shrugging, you replied, "It was no problem. I mean, I wasn't just going to leave you out on the street. Although, I'll admit, it _is_ pretty weird having a drunk, half-naked man break into your house as four in the morning."

He nodded and sighed, running his fingers through his hair, "Yeah, I do shit like that sometimes…" he admitted. You weren't surprised, "I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

Your eyes met his. He looked genuinely worried.

"No. No, no, no. Not at all. You just got a little hands-y, is all," you laughed nervously.

He groaned and ran a hand down his face, "Ugh, listen, I'm sorry, [y/n]. I'm not myself when I'm drunk. The real me would never lay a hand on a lady like that, not when they weren't into it, you understand?"

"No, yeah, I get it. Don't worry about it," you assured him.

"I was way out of line. Fuck, I'm sorry."

You grabbed his hand hesitantly, "Trevor, seriously, it's okay."

Trevor nodded in response. He inhaled deeply before standing up. You followed him with your eyes as he walked toward the exit of your apartment, "Anyways, I know you wanted your space or whatever so I'm going to take off n—"

"No, wait— " you interrupted him, rising to your feet. He looked at you as your cheeks began to turn pink, "I, uh… You don't have to go yet… if you don't want to…"

With that one sentence, you felt the atmosphere of the room physically change as the tension grew thicker. You wished with all your heart that you just kept your mouth shut. He raised an eyebrow at you, "You want me to stay?"

You opened your mouth and began speaking without really thinking, "No. I mean… yes. I mean, like only if you want to. I don't mind."

Trevor smile smugly at you, "Correct me if I'm wrong but it seems to me that someone is growing quite fond of me."

"I…" you started, "No, I… I mean, we're friends, right? We're friends?"

He nodded, "I guess, if that's what you want."

You smiled and looked down at your feet, your face burning. You felt so stupid for babbling like an idiot in front of him, "Sure, yeah…" you swallowed, "Friends…"

He walked back toward you, "Alrighty, _friend_. I'll stay, if that's what you want," you hummed a response, wondering how much hotter your face can get. You felt his hand come up and brush a piece of your hair out of your face. You looked up to see his face inches from yours, he looked rather pleased with himself. _Fuck_. "You know, most of my _friends_ don't blush around me as much as you do."

You swatted his hand away and let out a breathy laugh, "I'm not blushing. It's just warm in here."

"It _is_ a little hot, isn't it?" He ran his fingers up your arm, giving you chills. You backed up.

"Jesus, Trevor… Would you stop? God… You know what? Maybe you _should_ go home."

"I should, shouldn't I?" He took a seat on the couch, making himself comfortable, "But I'd rather stay here with my good _friend_."

You pursed your lips, "Okay, would you stop with the friend talk? You're driving me crazy," you let out a little laugh.

"Why? You don't want to be friends with me anymore?" he joked.

"Nope. Not anymore," you played along. You crossed your arms and looked away.

"Then, what? What do you want to be?"

You glanced at his expression. You knew what he was doing…and you hated how much you fucking loved it.

"Enemies."

"Enemies?" he echoed. You nodded. He rose to his feet and approached you. His face was inches from yours yet again. You stared into each other's eyes, "Oh, I can be your enemy. I can be your worst fucking nightmare, if you want."

You gulped hard. You felt a strange mixture of both fear and arousal form in pit of your stomach.

"You don't have to try very hard to be that."

"Is that so?" Shaking your head, you bit your lip. He continued, "So, I guess this means we're enemies."

"Well, you know what they say…" you breathed. You backed up slowly. He followed your every move, never breaking eye contact. Before you know it, your back was against the wall with Trevor right in front of you. You were trapped. Nowhere to escape. You took a deep breath and continued, "Keep your friends close… and your enemies—."

You didn't even get to finish your sentence.

It was over.

Trevor was crashing his lips into yours.

 _Finally_.


	8. Chapter 8

Your kisses were desperate, tasting each other to the very last drop. You felt the weight of his entire body press against yours, leaving you captured against the wall. You felt the shape of his erection press against your thigh. You bucked your hips forward, causing him to throw his head back and emit a low moan.

He brought his hand up to your face and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

A coy grin grew on your face as you rocked your hips into his bulge. He moaned again.

"I have a feeling I do."

He smiled wickedly and reached around to grab your hair, yanking it back. Your mouth hung open.

"You do not want to fuck with me, [y/n]."

You glanced into his aggressive eyes, "Actually, that's exactly what I want."

His lips met yours again, his kisses more languid than rough this time. He gripped your hips and guided you back toward the bedroom. Once you were in, he pushed you down onto the bed so that you were lying on your back.

Your eyes watched him as he eagerly moved to unbutton your jeans. He pulled down both your pants and panties and just stared at you with your legs spread. His eyes widened as he smiled at you.

"Oh, fuck yes! God, you're fucking gorgeous down there!"

You felt your cheeks begin to blush again. You attempted to cover your face with your good hand but he grabbed it and kept it away.

"No, don't be embarrassed. Christ… I could stare at you all fucking day."

"Just stare?" you responded, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes looked up at yours as he shook his head slowly, "Oh, baby, I'd do a lot more than stare."

"Like what?" you asked wanting him to just shut up and get on with it already.

You watched him as he licked his lips and lowered his head. You felt the pad of his tongue lick the entire outer area of your pussy. You let out a loud groan, arching your back against the mattress. You covered your mouth with your hand but he reached up and grabbed it away.

"Oh, no, you don't. I want to hear every fucking noise you make. I want your fucking neighbors to be able to hear them too."

And with that, he was tasting you again, his tongue teasing inside of you and curling out. You gripped the sheets below you.

"Holy fuck. You taste so goddamn delicious."

You were writhing underneath him, "Trevor, please stop talking."

"Babe, you gotta know how fucking amazing you taste."

"No, I don't. I _gotta_ come before I explode."

He let out a laugh. You felt the heat of his breath blow against the wetness of your pussy. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

You felt his tongue harden and shove inside of you, licking your essence from your inner walls. He moved his tongue side to side, up and down, hitting every place he can. He just barely grazed your sweet spot, causing your whole body to jolt.

" _Fuck_ , Trevor. Up, up, up. A little up," you commanded desperately. You ran your fingers through his hair.

He broke contact, shushing you.

"I'm not ready for this to end yet," he answered. He went back to doing what he was doing, teasing you ever-so slightly over and over again. You whimpered in frustration. You _needed_ to come.

Trevor must have sensed your irritation because you felt one of the hands he had wrapped around your thighs move slowly, sliding over your skin toward your pussy. You felt a finger teased the entrance, causing you to fidget. You let out another helpless whimper.

He backed up slightly to speak, "You want more?" His voice was muffled. You felt his lips move against you as he spoke.

You nodded frantically, "Y-yes…"

He laid down a sharp smack on your thigh, causing you to jump, "Talk to me, dammit!"

"Yes, I want more!"

You felt his lips grow into a smile as he immediately started tasting you again. Within that same moment, he slid two fingers inside of you. You moaned in ecstasy as you felt every curve of his digits sink deeper inside of you.

Once he was fully inside, he started pumping, in and out as he continued to go down on you.

Your entire body twisted and turned. You felt him grip your thigh harder, trying to keep you steady. You faintly heard him let out a sly laugh before he finally started hitting your sweet spot with his fingers. You moaned loudly and arched your back further into the mattress.

"You wanna come, princess?" he asked in a voice so low, it was almost like a growl.

You nodded, "P-Please?"

He pressed wet kisses to the outside of your pussy as he continued to thrust his fingers into you.

"Who's your daddy?" he asked.

"You."

He smacked your thigh again, "I said, _who is your fucking daddy_?"

Desperate tears began to form in your eyes, "You! You, you, you! You're my daddy! Shit…"

"That's what I thought, now come for daddy."

And you did. You felt his fingers vibrate against you as you threw your head back, moaning Trevor's name. The familiar feeling of electricity and warmth flowed through your body, hitting every nerve ending. You pussy pulsated under his touch, convulsing along with the rest of your body. A huge smile formed on your face. You felt all of your limbs shake with pleasure as the tidal wave of your orgasm washed you away.

Trevor stopped moving and just continued to place soft kisses to your pussy as you came down from your high. His hand slowly caressed your thigh, soothing your entire body.

"Shhh…" he planted another kiss, "I gotcha, princess."

Your body relaxed as you worked to steady your breathing again. He slowly removed his fingers and stopped pressing down kisses. He leaned his head against your thigh and just stared at you, mesmerized.

You swallowed hard and cleared your throat, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had formed on your forehead. You glanced down at Trevor between your legs.

"Jesus, Trevor…" you breathed.

"I'm guessing it was good?"

You paused for a moment to continue working on your breathing, "I… Jesus, Trevor…"

He let out a soft laugh and kissed your thigh before moving to lay down beside you. You both locked eyes in silence, smiling at each other.

"You know, I think sex is the leading cure for depression." He stated matter-of-factly. You let out an embarrassing snort and covered your face with your hand before looking up to the ceiling. You sighed deeply, "What?" he asked.

"Nothing. It's just that I had sex with Trevor Philips."

"That you did, sweetheart. That you did." You covered your face again, "What?!" he asked.

"I can't believe you made me call you daddy…" you laughed. He laughed with you.

"You sounded smoking hot saying it, if it makes you feel any better." You rolled your eyes.

"I should have guessed that you were kinky like that."

He moved and positioned himself so that he was leaning on his shoulder. He swiped away a stray piece of hair on your face, "I'm into anything and everything. Just let me know what you like and you got it, babe."

Your eyes met for a moment, "Thanks, Trevor."

"So, what are we? Friends or enemies?"

You looked back toward the ceiling to think.

Could you really be with an unstable criminal? Could you both really just be friends after this? Could you truly love someone even when you can't love yourself? Could this be the biggest mistake of your life? You never really know until you try.

You looked into his eyes again and kissed him hard.

"What do you think?"


	9. Chapter 9

You both spent the day fucking. It was the first time a guy cared enough to make you come multiple times. Needless to say, you were spent. Your body laid limp on the messy bed below you as Trevor thrusted himself into you a few more times until he finished moments after you.

" _Fuck, I love you!_ " he groaned as he came again. His declaration of love didn't surprise you anymore considering he repeated the phrase over and over again for hours as you both went at it.

He pulled out of you slowly to get up and dispose of the condom he was wearing. You whimpered at the new feeling of emptiness. You rolled onto your side, being careful of your broken arm. You sighed as you finally closed your legs. Trevor climbed into bed with you and spooned you. You both just laid there for a moment, catching your breath.

"I…" you started, closing your eyes, "I don't think I can come anymore today."

Trevor positioned himself so that he was leaning on his arm, looking at you. He ran his hand up your thigh, "Is that a challenge?"

You scoffed at him "Ha, no. You've officially worn me out."

"Come on, you only came three times!"

"No, that was you," you corrected, "I came six times."

"Six?!" he rose his eyebrows, astounded.

"Six."

"Fuck, I'm good," he said with pride.

"I know that and now I want to rest." You grabbed the hand he had on your thigh and moved it so that it was wrapped around your belly. You snuggled closer to him, beyond ready for a nap.

You sensed his eyes staring down at you, "So, you're just going to give up on me when I've got so much more love to give?"

"Mhmm…" you hummed with a slow nod, "…Sleep with me…"

"I'm trying to," he responded.

You swatted at the hand on your stomach before interlacing your fingers with it, "…Not like that…"

He let out an annoyed groan and laid down comfortably behind you. Within minutes, you both were deep asleep.

* * *

A few hours later, you were the first to wake up. You couldn't sleep anymore with all of Trevor's snoring. His arm was still wrapped around your body. You scooched away from him slightly, unsticking your naked and sweaty bodies from each other. You lightly tapped on his hand to wake him up.

"Trevor?" you whispered. Nothing. So you repeated it louder, "Trevor, wake up."

He jolted awake, making you jump a bit. "Ma?"

You looked him, "Nope, just me." You both locked eyes for a moment before he released his hold of you and sat up. He stretched his arms and yawned. You sat up and faced him while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"How was your sleep?" he asked groggily.

"Well-deserved."

"You feeling okay?"

"A little sore, but it's a good kind of sore."

He stretched his neck and scratched his fingers through his hair, "You were fucking incredible."

Blushing, you leaned in for a soft kiss. It was your first kiss with him that wasn't frantic or sexual. A small smile formed on your lips against his. You felt butterflies. When you backed away, he was smiling back at you.

"Wow…" he sighed.

"What is it?"

"I don't know what my problem is but whenever I'm with you, I turn into this big softy. It's fucking pathetic."

You grazed your fingers behind his ear and leaned in closer, "I don't think it's pathetic at all," you pressed a kiss to the side of his lips, "I think it's kind of cute."

He frowned as you continued pressing soft kisses across his face, eventually pushing your lips to his. His frown dissolved and he kissed you back. He moved his hands to your hair, combing his calloused fingers through the strands. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, intensifying the kiss.

The two of you remained like that for a while, kissing slowly and softly. The room was silent aside from the sound of your breathing. A part of you wished you both could stay like that forever but you both were interrupted by the sound of your stomach growling.

You both broke the kiss to laugh. "Sorry," you apologized, blushing deeply.

"Don't worry about it," he assured you, pressing one more kiss to your lips, "Dinner's on me."

Pursing your lips, you watched him get up and walk toward the phone on your desk. You used the moment to shamelessly stare at his bare ass as he dialed the number to order food for the both of you. You chewed on your bottom lip. He really was beautiful and you couldn't believe he was all yours to do whatever you pleased.

You watched him pace the room with the phone to his ear, ordering the both of you some pizza. While he told the person on the phone your address, you got up. He glanced at you. You pointed to the door and mouthed the word "Bathroom" to him and exited the room.

Once you got to the bathroom, you ran the shower for the second time that day. Although you already bathed that day, after all you and Trevor did, your body needed to be cleaned again. You hopped in the shower and began thoroughly washing your body. You were almost done rinsing off when Trevor entered the bathroom.

"Any room for me?" he asked.

"Actually, I was just getting out."

"Shit, I was hoping we could have a little fun in there before food got here."

You couldn't help but snicker, "That's a shame. How could you possibly want to go again anyways?" He climbed into the shower with you as you asked the question. You looked down and lo and behold, he was hard again.

"Because you're beyond sexy and I literally can't get enough of you," he answered, leaning in and gripping your ass with both of his hands. You pushed him away and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his lips.

"Maybe later," you whispered. You exited the shower, leaving him alone. You grabbed a towel and wrapped it around you, "I'm too hungry and my body is too tired right now," you headed toward the bathroom door, "You wash up. I'll be in the bedroom when you're done," and with that you left him to shower.

Heading toward your bedroom, you caught yourself smiling. It astounded you that merely two days ago, having a genuine smile on your face was a rarity. You finally felt… happy… and it was all because of Trevor.

You stopped in front of the full-body mirror in your bedroom and stared at yourself. You turned your head, examining every feature of your face. You thought happiness would make you look a lot different but it was still the same girl from a few days ago looking back at you.

In the bathroom, you heard the sound of Trevor clearing his throat.

 _Trevor_.

You began thinking deeper, evaluating yourself. Although you certainly felt happier than you did a couple of days back, you wondered why. Why were you happy? Were you only happy because you had Trevor? Would you still be happy if he wasn't yours? If you ignored how Trevor made you feel, would you still hate yourself? A lot of relationships don't work out. What would happen if he left? Would you end up wanting to take your own life again? Finally, you wondered if it was possible to love someone else if you didn't even love yourself.

You didn't even notice you were crying until Trevor entered the room and spoke, "Hey. Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? What's going on?" He approached you quickly.

Wiping your tears away, you avoided eye contact. "Uhh… Nothing. Don't worry about it."

He grabbed your shoulders, being careful of your broken arm, and turned you toward him. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, "We both know that's bullshit. What's going on?"

You sniffed, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking too much."

Before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his embrace and just like a few days before, you cried in his arms and let your sadness rule over you.


	10. Chapter 10

Trevor held you as you cried on the floor until a knock sounded from the front door. He got up and went to put on the pajama pants you lent him the night before.

"I'll be right back."

You nodded and wiped your tears with your hand while he went to go get the food from the delivery person. You spent the moment alone trying to stop crying. In the next room, you heard Trevor talking to the person at the door, his voice much deeper than when he talks to you. You couldn't really hear what he was saying. Within minutes, you heard the front door slam shut and the loud sound of a car speeding away. Trevor entered the room with a smile on his face and a box of pizza in his hand.

"Good news, the guy gave us a discount."

He set the box on the floor right next to you and sat down across from you. Trevor opened the box, grabbed a slice, and began scarfing it down. You, however, couldn't even look at the pie. You nudged the box away.

"I'm not hungry…" you mumbled, "I lost my appetite."

Swallowing his food, Trevor set down the slice he was working on and picked up another. He held it out to you, "Babe, I know you're upset right now but I also know you were starving like an hour ago. Now, here."

You shook your head like a stubborn child as he held the piece closer to your mouth.

"C'mon, pizza is literally one of the happiest foods you could eat," he coaxed, continuing to hold the slice inches from your face. You pursed your lips, trying to conceal a smile. "Don't you think I didn't see that smile, [y/n]. Now, eat."

"Fine…" You scrunched up your nose and grabbed the food out of his hand, taking a small bite out of it. You immediately felt the hollowness of your stomach fill up and your hunger go away.

"No matter how sad you are, you can't go all day without eating," he grabbed his slice and began eating again. He continued speaking with his mouth full, "S'not good for ya, s'not good for anyone."

You ate your first couple of slices in silence as Trevor practically inhaled half of the whole pie. For a guy who looked relatively fit, you wondered where he puts all the food he consumes.

"So, are you going to talk to me and tell me what all that crying was about?"

Swallowing your food first, you answered, "I was just having an episode. Don't worry about it."

"I seriously spent all day inside of you, you can talk to me, you know?"

You set down the slice of pizza you were working on and took a deep breath.

"It's just… I know that you make me happy but I… I was thinking about how you might be the only thing making me happy. What if something happens and for some reason, I don't have you? Will I be back to my old self again?" you looked down at your hands in your lap, "I don't want to die, Trevor."

He reached over and grabbed one of your hands, "Well, it sounded to me like you just answered your own question right there," he started. "You don't want to die. And if something _does_ happen and you don't have me, you won't die. You won't let yourself. If you ask me, I think you've made a shit-ton of progress since the moment you almost threw yourself in front of a train."

You felt your eyes start to burn with tears again but you held them back. You didn't want to cry anymore.

"Don't worry about not having me around, alright? [y/n], as long as I'm here, I'll help you get through all this so you don't feel like you have to lean on me to feel okay, okay?"

All you could do was nod.

"But for now, you can lean on me all you want."

* * *

Hours later, you were both cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

"I want to know more about you," you said, breaking the silence. Trevor stopped channel surfing for a moment and looked at you for a second before continuing to click through the channels. He shook his head.

"No, you don't."

You sat up and grabbed the remote out of his hand, "Yes, I do."

He tried grabbed the remote again but you held it farther away. "Why?"

"Is it that weird to want to know who I'm dating?"

Trevor let out a sigh and leaned back, making himself comfortable.

So, he told you. He told you about his father abandoning him in a shopping mall. He told you about his brother Ryan and how everyone in his family accused him of murdering him in cold-blood. He told you about his mother and how abusive she was to him but he continued to love her regardless. He told you about his dreams of being in the Air Force being shot down. He told you about his early crimes and his friends Michael and Brad and what happened in North Yankton. He told you about Trevor Philip's Industries. He told you about reuniting with Michael after nearly ten years of thinking he was dead and pulling off what he called "The Big One," when he robbed the Union Depository.

When he finished speaking, an hour had passed. You didn't say anything, you just sat there and took in all that you just heard. The man who sat in front of you, the man you spent the day kissing and touching, the man who saved your life, he was extremely dangerous. He was the kind of person your parents would have warned you to stay away from as a kid. He was the kind of person you should definitely not fall for. You knew all of that very well.

But when he finished talking, you did not think to run. You did not think to get help. All you did was grab him by the nape of his neck and pull him in for a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

You examined the remains of your cast on the floor of Trevor's trailer as Ron examined your bare arm. Ron moved your arm around slowly.

"Do you feel any pain when I do this?"

Shaking your head, you answered, "Nope."

He got up from where he was sitting next to you on the couch and entered the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a wet towel. He sat down again and began wiping the sweat from your arm. He stood up again once he was done and gathered up his supplies.

"Well, Miss [y/n], it seems your arm is officially healed. Now, try not to let Trevor tackle you down and break it again."

You let out a laugh as you moved your wrist around for the first time in about ten weeks, "Thanks, Ron," you said with a smile. He smiled back before leaving you alone in the trailer.

Then, it was just you. You were used to being left alone at Trevor's place while he was out doing whatever he had to do. Most of the time, he would leave to go help Chef out with something at the kitchen. You learned to bring books and your laptop over with you so you weren't so bored. You rose to your feet and entered Trevor's bathroom, stripping down to take a shower. The smell of your bare arm was getting to you and you wanted to wash it.

Once you finished showering, you threw on one of Trevor's shirts and a pair of underwear and proceeded to his bedroom. Grabbing a book out of your bag, you sat down on his bed and read until he got back.

* * *

About an hour had past when your concentration was torn away from your book by the overwhelmingly loud sound of a bunch of motorcycles arriving at the trailer. You dog-eared the page you were on and quickly tip-toed toward one of the windows of the mobile home. The place was surrounded by a few motorcycles, a black van, and men clad in leather, all labeled with a logo: _The Lost MC_. A sick feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach. You moved away from the window, hoping they didn't see you.

"Okay, okay, okay…" You whispered to yourself, "You're gonna be alright."

You heard a rough male voice yell outside, "TREVOR!" You trembled and covered your mouth with your hands to silence yourself. Looking around the room, you frantically searched for your phone. You noticed it toward the head of the bed. You positioned yourself to slowly crawl to go get it when a gunshot rang out. You let out a small scream and covered your ears. You heard a bullet casing hit the floor of the living area.

 _I don't want to die_ , you thought to yourself, tears burning in your eyes. You hoped that Ron would help you, or Trevor, or anyone.

"TREVOR, WHERE ARE YOU?" The man's voice called out, "YOU CROSSED US FOR THE LAST TIME!"

Another shot hit the trailer. You saw a cloud of dust float through the air near where the bullet shot into the home. The sound of footsteps approached the door. You hugged your shaking knees to you from where you sat on the floor by the wall. There was a short moment of silence before the man kicked down the door. You jumped and put your head down, despite not really being religious, you decided to pray. You prayed that they'd just leave you alone. You prayed that someone, anyone, would come and help you. You prayed for your life.

With your eyes closed tight, you listened as the sound of heavy boots stomped toward you, stopping a few feet in front of you. You opened your eyes and slowly raised your head toward the man in front of you.

"P-Please don't kill me…" You whimpered.

The man knelt down in front of you and ran a hand through your hair. You shuddered under the touch of this stranger. You both locked eyes before he spoke, "Can't make no promises."

Before you know it, you were being lifted up and carried away, kicking and screaming. You looked toward Ron's trailer next door as the stranger lugged you toward the black van.

"RON!" you yelled, "Ron, Trevor, help me!" You saw one of the curtains at Ron's place being drawn open before quickly closing, as if whoever drew it didn't want to be seen.

You were shoved in the back of the van, your body slamming against the cold metal. You immediately attempted to get up and try to escape only to have one of them stop you, grabbing your shoulders to stop you.

"Eye for an eye, Philips," he said, before raising a fist and punching you in the eye, knocking you out cold.

* * *

When you woke up next, you were tied to a tree. Your eye swelled on your face and your head thumped. The men who captured you were gathered around, some talking to each other, others were drinking, and one was tending a fire pit. Looking around, you realized you were all in a forest.

That was when the panic set in.

You began to scream out for help again, writhing against the tree you were tied to in the hopes that it would loosen the ropes. But to no avail, you remained captured and now had their attention.

"Oh, ho, there she is," the same stranger who grabbed you before said, approaching you with a shit-eating grin. You assumed he was a leader, "You can scream all you want, no one is gonna hear you but us." You bit your lip and began crying again.

"Please, I didn't do anything wrong! Let me go!"

He caressed a knuckle over your arm, "You may have not done anything wrong but your little boyfriend however…" He turned toward his men, "That crazy bastard killed one of our own, another one of our brothers murdered, and we're just not gonna let the fucker get away with it, huh, boys?" They all responded in passionate agreement.

"Listen, I'm really sorry. I'm really really really sorry but please, I have nothing to do with it," you pleaded desperately.

"But that's where you're wrong, sweet cheeks. You have everything to do with it," he said, holding a finger to your lips to silence you, "He killed one of our own, and we're gonna kill one of his."

 _No._

You weren't sure whether you said it out loud or not because the next thing he said was, "I'm afraid so," with a nod. "It sucks kinda sucks though," he began, "Having to kill you. See, Trevor doesn't usually fuck around with _pretty_ ladies so it's gonna be harder to kill you when I honestly could see myself banging you myself"

The statement made your face turn red and your blood boil. Without really thinking, you spit in his face, earning a low "Ohh…" from the small crowd. The man slowly wiped the spit from his eye with his hand and let out a laugh. He then lunged toward you with his forearm pressed against your neck, choking you.

"Listen, bitch," he threatened as you wheezed against him, "Next time a man compliments you, the words you are looking for are 'Thank you,' got it?"

You managed a small nod. More silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe. He unpinned himself from you and wiped a tear away from your face with his calloused thumb. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it quick for you."

He backed up and held his hand out to one of the others. The other placed a revolver in his hand. The leader raised his weapon toward you and cocked it. You desperately looked around at the other men, pleading for mercy with your eyes. They only watched with stern expressions on their faces.

"Say goodnight, sweetheart."

A shot rang out.

Suddenly, your voice returned to you in the form of a scream. The man who was holding the gun at your fell to the ground. His blood and chunks of his brain stained the leaves. Just like that, the man was dead.

Your wide eyes scanned everywhere as you began to hyperventilate. The motorcyclists entered a panicked frenzy, taking cover and reaching for their own weapons.

"Where did that come from?" one of them questioned out loud. He raised his head slightly to search for where the shot came from only to be shot in the head, his body collapsing on the dirt.

All you could do was watch as the men shot blindly into the thick of the forest. One by one, they were taken out, their dead bodies piling up around the area.

It wasn't very long until the forest fell silent. The men were all dead. Your chest heaved and your ears rang from the volume of the gunshots. You looked toward the forest, watching the bushes rustle and twigs crack as someone approached you.

"[Y/n]!" Trevor shouted as he ran out of the thicket toward you. He tossed his sniper rifle aside as he got closer, "Fucking Christ, [y/n]…"

You broke into sobs, "Tr-Trevor! Oh my god!"

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm right here," he withdrew a pocket knife, "Let me get you down." The man began cutting you down from the tree. Once you were free, you fell into his arms.

"T-T…"

He shushed you, tightening his embrace on you, "It's okay now. It's all over."

"I…"

You broke away enough to glance down at all of the dead bikers. You shivered as you focused on the man who almost killed you. You suddenly felt weak and buried your face into Trevor's chest. You held onto him for dear life.

"C'mon, let me take you home…"


	12. Chapter 12

You laid on your side on Trevor's bed. Your eyes burned. You'd been crying continuously for what must have been hours and it started to feel like you had run out of tears. You felt dirty, you felt humiliated, you felt the weakest you've felt in months. You listened to the creak of Trevor's rugged boots pacing the linoleum floor of the living area.

"How could you just SIT there and watch them take her?!" he yelled at Ron who was also out there with him.

"I-I-I tried, Trevor…" Ron stammered.

" _Tried_?! You _tried_? She's laying in there with a fucking black eye and cuts and bruises on her beautiful fucking body and you're telling me you _tried_? Where the fuck was your gun, huh? Sitting there, watching her get kidnapped while you're twiddling your fucking dick is _not_ trying!" you heard Trevor rant.

"Listen, listen, I know you're mad…" started Ron, before being interrupted by a loud roar from Trevor, "B-b-but I followed them and called you to tell you where they took her. Besides, I-I-I don't think I could have taken them on myself."

"You didn't _think_. That's your problem. You _never_ think! And look what fucking happened! I could kill you, I'm so fucking angry!"

"N-no, please… Come on, Trev- I'm sorry!"

"Oh-ho, you're sorry? I'll give you a reason to be sorry!"

You took a deep breath, got up, and entered the room with them. You were tired of the yelling.

"ENOUGH!" you shouted, gaining the attention of the two of them. Trevor had Ron by the collar of his shirt with a fist raised at him. Ron was bracing for impact.

"Hey, baby…" Trevor spoke softly, with a sad smile on his face. He lowered his fist and released Ron, causing him to fall to the floor. He turned toward you, "Are you okay?"

"No," you answered without hesitation.

His smile faded, "Oh… What's going on?"

"Nothing much, aside from the fact that I had probably one of the most stressful days of my life and now I have to hear you scream at Ron when he did nothing wrong."

He stepped toward you, "You could have been dead!"

"But I'm not, thanks to Ron's help. If he hadn't told you were I was then yeah, I would have been dead and then you would have had every reason to murder him. But that didn't happen so excuse me, Trevor, but could you shut the FUCK up and leave him alone!?" you snapped.

Both of their mouths hung open as they watched you close your eyes and take a deep breath, calming yourself down.

"Ron," you started in a softer tone, "Could you give Trevor and I some privacy please?"

Ron processed the question for a moment before nodding quickly. He clumsily rose to his feet and began rushing toward the exit to leave. Then it was just you and Trevor.

"I-I'm sorry—" Trevor started but he was interrupted by you holding up a finger.

"For the love of god, can we please just lay down and have some peace and quiet right now?"

He responded with a nod and followed you to the bedroom. You laid down on your side while he took off his boots and jeans, kicking them haphazardly across the room. He climbed into bed and began spooning you, planting a small kiss to the nape of your neck. For a few minutes, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of light breathing. You took that moment to close your eyes, resting them.

The silence was broken by Trevor, "Emily?" he whispered.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay."

You didn't want to say that you felt like you had it coming, that you knew the risk of being with someone who lived a dangerous lifestyle and took that risk anyways. You just hummed and shrugged.

His grip on your body tightened as he held you closer, "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you." You hummed again, too tired to give him an actual response. You felt him move, positioning himself so that he was able to look at your face. You tried looking away but he placed his hand softly on your face, causing your eyes to meet. He wiped a tear off your face. You didn't even notice you were crying again. He opened his mouth as if to say something but promptly shut it again. He just smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You drew a deep breath and closed your eyes, "Hey, Trevor…" He tilted his head and furrowed his brow, "Can you make love to me?" you asked softly.

And so he did.

He worshipped your body that night with such soft passion, handling you as if you were fragile and could break in an instant with any wrong move. It was different than any other time. It was as if fucking was completely thrown out the window. It was nothing but love, complete and utter love. For a moment, you felt right, as if nothing was wrong, as if everything was going to be okay.

If only that feeling lasted.

* * *

Nightmares.

Weeks gone by, and you began to wonder if you would ever have a full-night's sleep again. You wanted so badly to just sleep continuously without the memory of the kidnapping playing over and over again in your head.

Every nightmare was the same, some more vivid than others, but always the same movie. You remember thinking with certainty that you were going to die. You remember hearing the gunshot that killed the man in front of you and for just a moment, thinking that was the gunshot that was going to kill you. The blood and guts splattered on the leaves were forever engraved in the back of your eyelids so that whenever you closed your eyes, you saw it.

You'd wake up in a panicked sweat almost every night and curse the fact that the night wasn't over so you couldn't just wake up and start your day.

It got to a point where you were almost terrified to go to bed.

You spent your days exhausted.

It was as if that horrible event happened every single day and there was nothing you could do about it.

* * *

A knock at the trailer door sounded. You barely heard it over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. Trevor had left hours earlier to run some errands, leaving you behind, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Before long, you began having a full-blown panic attack. It was starting to dawn on you that you might never get use to the feeling of utter dread and despair that came with these outbursts.

"Um, excuse me… Emily…?" You heard Wade's voice call as he let himself into the mobile home. He turned and saw you as you shook and cried. You both made eye contact, "Uh… I'm sorry to barge in on your cryin'."

You quickly moved to wipe the tears from your red blotchy cheeks. You took some deep breaths to slow your heart rate.

"N-no, I'm sorry…" you replied, voice cracking. You cleared your throat.

"Sorry? For what?"

"Oh, it's just…" you searched your scattered mind for an excuse but you had none. You waved your hand around, gesturing vaguely, "I… just… nevermind. Sorry."

He offered you a kind smile and walked toward you, coffee in hand, "You apologize too much for someone who does nothin' wrong, ya know?" He held the beverage out to you. You took it in your hand and took some more deep breaths, "You can thank Trevor for that coffee. He told me you don't sleep good no more. I can tell, you look tired but that could be from all the cryin'."

You shrugged and took a sip from your drink.

He nodded, "Is that why I never see you out with Trevor no more? You're too tired?"

"Kind of… I guess I'm too tired to get out of bed most days."

He nodded for a moment and then opened his mouth, as if an idea hit him, "Wanna know what I do when I don't wanna sleep?" He reached into his pocket and started digging around. He pulled out a sandwich bag with thick white crystals in it. A giant grin formed on his face.

Your lips parted in a small 'o' shape, "Oh, Wade… I-I-I'm sorry, I just don't think that's for me."

He frowned and looked at the bag, "Are you sure? It's a Trevor Philips Industry recipe so you know it's the best meth in Los Santos. One hit of this and I don't feel like sleepin' no more."

Your mouth was gaping, "I-I don't know, Wade…"

He pursed his lips and began storing the drug back in his pocket, "It's okay," he said, "I was just tryin' to help."

"And I appreciate it," you offered him a smile and patted his shoulder. You set the coffee down on the nightstand and ran your fingers through your hair with a deep sigh.

Rising to his feet, he smoothed out his jersey. He smiled at you, "Well, miss, I gotta go. Good luck with the whole sleep thing."

You nodded and watched him leave. Once he was gone, your eyes began scanning around the room before settling on your hands in your lap. You turned them over to look at your palms. You examined the four red, crescent-shaped indentations on each of your hands. They must have come from your fingernails digging into your skin during your anxiety attack. You massaged the marks with your thumbs, wincing at the touch, and took a deep breath.

Abruptly, you ripped the blanket off of you and rose to your feet. You sped to the door of the trailer and opened it. The bright sunlight from outside blinded you momentarily. Once your eyes adjusted, you directed your attention to the driveway.

"Hey, Wade!" you called, "Hold on!"

He turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. He was pocketing his cell phone, and was just about to mount his four-wheeler.

"Ca-can you come back here a second?" You drew a deep breath, "I… I changed my mind."


End file.
